


Unitales

by SometimesWriting



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I got bored, Kinda, Molly singing, Oneshot, Sherlock and cats, Sherlock being idek, Sherlolly - Freeform, Uni!lock, Unilock, Well one cat, and cooking, getting back into writing is hard, might become sherlolly later, not really - Freeform, silly oneshot, twenty one pilots - Freeform, yes that tag even makes sense don't doubt me!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesWriting/pseuds/SometimesWriting
Summary: This /might/ become a series. I'm not sure yet.
Anyway, for now:
This is based off of a prompt I found on tumblr and that I adjusted a bitto fit my needs.
Molly is cooking and dancing in her kitchen when suddenly a stranger pops his head through the kitchen window and scares the living daylight out of her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeees I know that at the time canon Molly and Sherlock would have gone to uni they would a) not have known Twenty One Pilots because they didn't exist yet and b) you didn't have music phones back then. But let's ignore that okay???

_Imagine person A of your OTP making dinner for themself and singing a love song that’s normally a duet while a window is open. Suddenly, person B who is outside the window starts singing along with them._

_Bonus if this how they first meet._

 

 

“Wish we could turn back tiiiiime, to the good old daaaaays” Molly sang while twirling through her teensy kitchen in her version of dancing, lightly hitting her hip on the counter and clearing her throat embarrassed before focusing back on singing along to the music coming from her phone on the counter.  
“But now we’re stressed ouuuut”

She chopped her carrots and broccoli, swaying her hips rhythmically.

“We used to play pretend, give each other different names, we would build a rocket ship, and then we’d fly it far away, used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face, saying ‘wake up, you need to make money’…”

“Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days, when our mamas sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out…”

Molly squeaked at the sudden sound of a deep baritone behind her, gripping her short kitchen knife tightly while she twirled around.

Shocked as she was, it took her a moment to process the sight of a _handsome_ young man in his twenties who grinned smugly at her, his leather jacket clad elbows resting on her outer window sill.

Dark curls fell into his forehead and his light eyes were sparkling with amusement while he looked her up and down subtly, taking in her huge comfy navy jumper she nicked from her dad, and comfy leggings with the paw print pattern.

“Hello there… You know, if you intend to hurt me, you should maybe rather use that steak knife over there.” He nodded at the large knife she’d put aside after slicing some cheese with it. “It will be much more effective.”

“I-… who are you??” Molly asked, blinking rapidly. “And why are you hanging through my kitchen window?”

“Ah right, sorry. Sherlock Holmes is the name. I’m your new neighbour, I stay with John Watson.”

He held out his hand to her but dropped it again with a shrug after a few seconds when she didn’t take it.

“And why I’m here, well, I was intrigued which fascinating alien creature in this flat actually has some proper taste in music.”

She put the knife aside and crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Twenty One Pilots is a massive improvement to the ghastly music that usually comes from this flat. Please say it’s your flatmate that listens to Robbie Williams and not you or I’ll be absolutely devastated.”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern what I like to listen to and what Meena listens to…”

“Well actually it is, you see, as she plays it so loudly I have to bear with it because I can hear it in my room.”

“I’ll tell her you’d like if she turned the volume down a bit then…”

“Oh no, the volume isn’t the matter, rather the choice of interpret, you see. If she decided to blast Bach then I’d be delighted.”

“You like Bach?”

Molly raised her brows, glancing at his ragged Bowie t-shirt and torn black skinny jeans.

He copied her expression, raising just one brow though.

“So difficult for you to believe? I’m a violinist if you must know.”

Molly finally turned off the music on her phone.

“Violinist, really? You look more like someone who’d play e-guitar in some garage band.”

“Mmmm… socialising? Not really my area. I play because it keeps my hands busy and helps me think.”

“For someone who seemingly thinks of them as anti-social, you do seem to like talking to neighbours you never met before.”

“Oh, only the ones with decent music taste. You may consider yourself special actually. And I’m a high-functioning sociopath, not anti-socialist.”

“High-functioning sociopath??”

“Do you intend to keep on repeating or paraphrasing what I said before? Because if so, I might have been mistaken and you’re not actually as interesting as I thought. What’s your name anyway?”

She was too taken aback by his insults, replying automatically. “Molly Hooper.”

Just then her kitten Toby entered the kitchen, purring at the sight of Sherlock and using a chair and the small kitchen table as steps up to the window so he could rub his head at Sherlock’s jacket, the young man stroking him gently.

“So he’s your cat then, interesting.”

“You know Toby??”

“Oh yes, he comes around a lot. Likes to get some treats and a bit of attention.”

“So it’s your fault he is barely eating his regular food then…”

She narrowed her eyes, feeling a sudden jealousy at how infatuated Toby seemed with that weird new neighbour of hers.

“Don’t be jealous, cats tend to like me a lot… and in general people who feed them. Every proper cat has at least two more places besides their actual home that they come to take naps at and get food and some scratches behind the ears at.”

“I’m not jealous…” Molly grumbled, suddenly heading over to pick Toby up and carry him away from Sherlock who seemed mildly surprised and possibly a bit offended, leaning back and shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Now that he stood up straight it was even more noticeable how utterly skinny and tall he was.

Toby mewled softly, looking over to Sherlock through the gap between Molly’s arm and body.

“I think he liked being stroked by me, you know…”

“Well but I didn’t… I don’t know you after all, you might be a maniac.”

“Mmmm nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “Like I said, sociopath not psychopath. Though some people do keep calling me a psychopath but those are minor details…”

“Riiiiight… erm… do you mind letting me finish cooking dinner now…?”

He blinked and shrugged.

“No, obviously. I was just on the way home. Well, goodnight then, Molly Hooper. And beware of any weirdos in this area; I heard it’s not the nicest in town…”

‘The only weirdo I met so far is currently warning me of his kind…’ she thought to herself.

“Mmm thanks…” Molly nodded a bit, waiting until he’d strolled away in the direction of the entrance of the apartment building before she closed the window firmly and even locked it, shaking her head and closing the curtains.

What an odd guy… John Watson always seemed so nice and normal, why would he choose a guy like that as his roommate?

Maybe she needed to talk to him next time she saw him in their anatomy course…

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Shall I write more stuff of this kind...?  
> If yes, prompts are always welcome!  
> If I get a plot bunny because of your prompt,  
> you might find it here :)


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